


The Wolf Is Always At The Door

by DichotomyStudios



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Established Relationship, Fanservice, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, M/M, Magnificent Seven AU: ATF, Nightmares, Sleepy Sex, Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 21:27:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DichotomyStudios/pseuds/DichotomyStudios
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even in the ATF, Chris and Buck are scared of the same monster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wolf Is Always At The Door

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BMP](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BMP/gifts).



> *This was written for BMP's bday, July 2012. She kindly allowed me to archive it for others.  
> *This fic is linked to [Good Morning, Sunshine](http://archiveofourown.org/works/176105) in my headcanon, though it needn't be for anyone else.  
> *Don Henley's 'New York Minute':  
>  _... if you find somebody to love in this world you better hang on tooth and nail, the wolf is always at the door..._  
> 

Every once in a while Buck liked to watch Chris sleep. He never meant for it to become a habit, but early into their relationship when he had a bad dream he’d reach over and skim his hand down Chris’s ribs, or lean close enough to touch their noses together to feel warm puffs of breath blowing on his mouth. He'd never expected it would be such a treasure to have the same person in his bed every night, always present through thick and thin. Chris slept on either his belly or his side, usually curled into Buck like a weather vane, one arm tucked under his head and the other flung carelessly behind him. When Buck needed it, he’d grab that stray arm and pull it over to his chest positioning Chris’s hand right above his heart. The heat and weight of Chris’s touch reassured him in a way Buck hadn’t had since he was little enough to be comforted by his momma. _'Hush now, Buckle. Don’t you fret about monsters. You know I’d never let anything happen to you, don’t you? I’m right here.'_  Monsters stopped being scary around the same time Santa Claus stopped being real. And then his mom died, killed by a monster.

Buck was full grown now, ex-military gone _kickass_ Federal agent, and if there was anything that could still scare him it should have been their job catching monsters. But he loved the job as much as Chris, sometimes even more. Everything was right and good in Buck’s world, and he had more to call his own than he ever thought he could.

But sometimes at night, after the world went away and he was alone in his head, he’d worry. Worry about things he didn’t think about during the day. His friends. Chris. When he was fretful, he’d hunker down and watch Chris sleep. 

For as much of a hellraiser Chris was awake, the man could sleep like an angel. Peaceful, quiet, still. Pale, bedhead hair going in every direction. The first time Ezra saw Chris laid up in the hospital he’d said it was _disconcerting._ Ezra wasn’t overtly bothered by the physical damage or the bandages, but he was damned uncomfortable with the vulnerability Chris showed asleep, all that sweetness that rose like cream when Chris couldn’t keep his guard up. Buck wasn't bothered by it. Heck, he loved it. Chris was usually only a deep sleeper in Buck's bed anyway, and seeing him so trusting and _bare_ made Buck feel strong, needed. It made him want to be a better man. It made him believe he was a better man.

The problem was sometimes he’d be awake when Chris would dream of sexy things. Chris slept with his mouth slightly open, and seeing that dark, moist space behind puffy, parted lips could tempt careless decisions at any hour, but Chris Larabee casually dreaming of sex was like custom made pay-per-view porn. The heavy erection and shifting hips, the subtle spread of long thighs, the grasping hands, the look of concentration on Chris's dreaming face. It all made Buck want to be a very _bad_ man. He'd never won any awards for personal restraint, especially over sex. He sure as hell wasn’t about to start now, not when it was so easy to get Chris from bitching about being woken up, to moaning and making his own demands. As good as those sleepless nights were, they were few and far between, and Buck was fine with that. What mattered was Chris loved him, and he was there with him every night. 

One morning he'd said, "I watched you sleeping last night," and waited for Chris's reaction. Twenty years of friendship and intimate knowledge of every color and shape hadn't prepared them for the twists of a long love affair, and Buck was still finding fun ways to poke at Chris. But the old never stopped coloring the new, even when he threw a curve ball at his lover. 

"You what? Buck, if I ever wake up with a handlebar mustache drawn on my face again, so help me god I will-"

"I think you're beautiful."

Chris stopped talking so fast his mouth hung open in mid-threat. And then it snapped shut. For one second Buck thought Chris was going to argue the point. The scowl was there, the mouth was turned down. Chris stared until he saw Buck wasn't lying, then he blinked once and made a choked noise before walking away, brushing a gentle hand over Buck's waist as he left. Buck grinned, almost bouncing in place, enjoying that small noise more than he should. Maybe he shouldn't have brought up the subject in the office over the coffee station.

He liked most of the noises Chris made in his sleep; the high-pitched gasps, the soft pleading for _Buck_ , even the cursing was funny.

He loved the really _dirty_ noises Chris never admitted he made, the ones Buck would quietly mimic when their friends were barely out of earshot.

But Buck _hated_ the scared noises. The shaky, stuttered breathing, the whimpers, the _sorry_ and _no no no_.

In a less charitable mood, like when their bed was soured by anger or their relationship had gone past push and pull to knock-down and drag-out, he’d hear those noises and kick Chris in the leg to snap him out of whatever hell he was reliving. But those bad nights had become rare enough that Buck could set aside almost anything now, and he wouldn’t hesitate to wake Chris, valiantly trying to keep the old monsters away.

Like tonight. Chris was restless and tangled in the sheets tonight, filling their bedroom with heart-wrenching noises. It was definitely a bad dream, the worst in a long time.

“Hey, shhh…” He laid a hand on Chris’s cheek, his thumb sliding through tears. “Wake up, darling. Wake up.” Without thinking, he gathered Chris to him, holding him tighter as Chris struggled to squirm away. He laid kisses on Chris’s forehead, his cheek, his lips, the whole time murmuring things he wouldn’t remember, things that didn’t matter. Finally, Chris opened his eyes. 

“Buck?” The low light from the window caught the moisture on Chris’s face and washed everything in shades of blue, including the suspicion painted starkly on Chris's face. The relief that followed lit up the room like a sunrise, starting slowly over the horizon but moving so fast it was as blinding as it was beautiful. “Buck.” Chris rolled over the top of him, holding him with strong thighs and hard hands. He didn’t smile at Buck, didn’t kiss him, just stared. And stared. Buck figured he’d have bruises at his shoulders where Chris was clutching him like a drowning man. At last Chris backed away with an apologetic headshake, his hands gliding down and away from Buck's bare chest. “I’m… I was… dreaming. You…”

Buck knew. He knew exactly and all too well. There weren’t many people in his life who’d ever needed him for more than one night, and even less who’d ever wanted him for more than one day. To have someone to love, someone who stayed even when things weren’t perfect, someone who could always _leave_ , that was terrifying.

He didn’t cry when he said, “Come here,” but it was a damn close thing. He opened one arm invitingly and Chris settled at his side, the tension in his body eventually relaxing into the warm curves that fit against Buck perfectly. Buck leaned over to bury his nose in Chris’s hair. “Everything is fine, we’re fine. Go to sleep.” Chris hummed agreement, and laid his hand over Buck’s heart. 


End file.
